


quarantine in Russia

by Akaruy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaruy/pseuds/Akaruy
Summary: Gilbert is stuck with Ivan during an epidemic. They discover they are made of habits.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

It was Sunday, and the phone rang at an ungodly time. He grabbed his phone blindly and answered the call. „Hello, Ivan?“, scratched a familiar voice in English. He grunted as a response.  
„I really need you to help me out! My hotel is closing, and there are no flights! I have nowhere to go- can you arrange some special transport for me to leave Russia?“, the voice rapidly shot out. Ivan sighed, then rubbed his temple with his free hand. It was too early for this. „Prussiya, calm down. I‘ll see what‘s going on as soon as the day has actually started.“, he said.  
The one on the other side of the phone hesitated. „… It‘s half past nine, Ivan. In the morning. Were you still sleeping? I‘ve already been to the airport and back-“, „I understand.“, Ivan interrupted, already stressed from the short conversation. The previous day was coming back to him.  
The starting pandemic, reaching for Russia. They had checked their emergency plans and equipment, and there was that spontaneous emergency meeting, which had been held yesterday. The countries close to Russian borders had been there, and Gilbert, subsitituting for Germany, who was busy with an emergency meeting with the states of the European Union. Everyone had left for home late in the evening, except – apparently – for Gilbert, who was going to return in the early morning of the following day. Today. The day before all non-essential businesses were to close, including hotels. 

„What do you mean, there are no flights?“, Ivan asked, sitting up in his bed. „Apparently the EU has closed their borders to all travellers, and now I am stuck here.“, Gilbert drawled dryly on the other end of the line. „I have already called Ludwig, and he said it would send the wrong signal to make exceptions at this time. At least that is what has been decided.“ Ivan groaned. „Let me check. When do you have to leave the hotel?“  
„They said by 2 in the afternoon.“ , „I will call you back a bit later. Stay in the room.“, Ivan replied before hanging up. For a moment he looked at the number shown on his screen, then looked for a number in his contact list and dialled.

The driver was wearing gloves and asked to be paid contactless. Gilbert, who did not have any physical money on him anyway, happily obliged. He got out with his duffel bag and the suit bag, and shivered when the cold air got under his open jacket. He shivered again when the door of the big old house opened, and Ivan came out to greet him. The tall man was wearing a large natural wool-coloured cable-knit sweater and an only lightly disguised frown. Somehow the sweater made him look much more massive despite its light colour.  
„Hi, Ivan..“ Gilbert said, slowly walking towards the entrance. It was mid-day in March, and still only about 3°C, the ground slippery in front of the house. „Come on in.“, Ivan said and made space for Gilbert to walk into the house.

The entrance was still pretty much unchanged, though things had gotten renovated since the last time Gilbert had been here. The old wallpapers had been removed and replaced by a white-washed wall.s He removed his jacked and shoes, feeling watched by the Russian. „It looks nice.“, he said to break the silence, indicating the walls. „Oh, we did not really change much on the first floor.“, Ivan said, „but the second floor looks quite different now. Come, I‘ll show you.“ With that, Ivan walked into the house, towards a large staircase leading upstairs. Gilbert swung his duffel bag over his left shoulder and followed while looking around. The house definitely looked less old-fashioned inside now. There still was a lot of old and very old furniture, but mixed with the clean white walls, it had a different vibe than in the middle of the last century.

When Ivan had called him back after almost two hours, Gilbert had already been on edge. Somehow he had already known that this story would end up with him staying in Ivan‘s home, he had just kept hoping that it wouldn‘t. For naught. Judging from the tone of the Russian‘s voice on the phone, he had had similar thoughts. The whole drive he had dreaded walking into this house, and now that he was here, it turned out to not be that bad. Some of the very hideous paintings had even been removed, he noted. The staircase was as creaky as it had been some 70 years earlier, but the second floor seemed to belong to a different house. It was light and modern, with an open second living room. The layout seemed to have changed a bit, and Gilbert looked around to count the doors. Ivan glanced at him with a small smile. „I have had this completely remodelled. Since I don‘t need that many rooms anyway I have had the two bathrooms enlarged and modernized, and we removed two of the smaller rooms to create this new open space up here. The library is my working space now, and you can find most books here instead.“ He then motioned to one of the doors to the left side of the stairs. „Here, you can stay in this room.“  
Gilbert walked into the room which was much bigger than he remembered any room in here to be. It too was furnished in light colours and featured a large window looking out towards the front of the building. The bed was made and there were shelves and a wardrobe, as if waiting for a guest. Gilbert remembered that Ukraine used to stay in this room whenever she was here. „What happened to the room I used to stay in?“, he asked, placing his duffel bag by the wall, hanging his suit bag on one of the garment hooks above it. Ivan still smiled his small smile. „It is a closet for cleaning supplies now.“ he said, „want to see?“. „Nah“, Gilbert said, pressing down annoyance, sitting down on the bed. It was very soft and he sank quite a bit into the covers. „Actually I would really like to show it to you.“, Ivan answered, moving forward to loom over him. His voice was still friendly, but Gilbert tensed. „And why is that?“, he asked defiantly looking up to the tall man. „You see..“, Ivan started, then suddenly sat next to Gilbert on the bed, which made both of them sink in even further due to the large man‘s weight, „I have received a call this morning from the friendly person I employ to help me out with cleaning and cooking, you know.“ Gilbert unsuccessfully tried to wiggle himself slightly out of the depth of the mattress. „He too cannot leave his house anymore from tomorrow, so I was thinking, since you are here, you could help me out instead.“ Ivan was still smiling at him in a very friendly way, and from looking at him, anyone would swear he could never hurt a fly. Gilbert grumbled. „You want me .. to cook and clean for staying here?“, he summarized, a bit incredulous. „You don‘t mind, do you?“, Ivan said, moving closer, his bodyweight shifting the whole mattress. „I will have to work all the time, and it will really help me out not to have to worry about dinner.“, Ivan added while Gilbert fought his way out of the mattress valley and got up. „I am working too, you know.“, he retorted.  
„Ah, but I think it is not so much.“, Ivan replied in his friendly voice, awkwardly trying to get up from the bed as well, and then doinghis best to loom over the other man, „and since I had to accept you into my house for political reasons, it just makes sense that you help out around here. Don‘t you agree?“  
„No, uh. It‘s ok I guess.“, Gilbert replied tautly as Ivan stood next to him. „Show me that closet then.“


	2. Chapter 2

The closet was nice and fully stocked. The rest of the house was nice as well, Gilbert had to admit. And it was convenient that he was able to stay here versus sleeping on the streets, or starting some political ruckus.   
At this moment it was completely unknown how long all of this was going to be this way, and his brother had promised to let him know immediately once he learned of a possibility to bring Gilbert back to Berlin. 

On the other hand it was Ivan‘s house, one with which Gilbert did not associate the very best memories of his live. Nor with Ivan himself, but, he told himself, that was the past and this was the present. With Ludwig being the one he was, and the bond of the EU altogether, the political situation looked quite a bit different now. Then again, all of this meant nothing if you physically were in the close proximity of someone who could easily rip you apart. At least Ivan would be busy. Gilbert had some things to do as well – he had brought his laptop of course – but compared to actually leading a country, supporting your own country, it was nothing. All he did nowadays was support Ludwig with whatever tasks he was given by his little brother. A part of him was glad – there was more time to enjoy compilations of funny dog videos his way. Another part of him was annoyed – he had been a successful country for many centuries, literally survived against all odds and paved the way for a better future (also literally, Gilbert thought, remembering his extensive road program). As always when he was going down this way of thought, his pragmatic side won.

He was just going to make do with the current situation, see the best parts of it and work until the bad parts changed. Therefore, he decided, he was glad that Ivan seemed to own a good selection of cleaning supplies. „Good work needs good tools.“, he muttered to himself.   
„.. Yes.“, Ivan replied, looking at him oddly. „I guess that‘s true. As I was saying, wifi only works on the ground floor‘s living room. I have a connection and another landline phone in my office over there of course.“   
Gilbert nodded as if he had been listening the entire time. Ivan seemed to search his face only to then mentally shrug. „.. and this is the kitchen, I‘m sure you remember.“, he said, proudly indicating the next room. „Okay.“, Gilbert said, looking around, „so you want me to cook, too, right?“ „Yes.“, Ivan nodded, „tonight you can help me out, and there is no need for making special breakfasts, but you and I are going to need lunch and dinner.“ Gilbert nodded. This seemed normal enough, and if this was all it took to not have any escalations in here, he would comply. 

A small shelf with a couple of old and withered books caught his eye. They were standing out against the clean white walls and lightly coloured kitchen (even though some kitschy flower tiles had been kept behind the stove and counter tops). Gilbert grabbed one of them and opened it. There was no dust, showing that it was still in use. There was a faded print in Russian, recipies with handwritten notes next to it. Flipping through the book Gilbert noticed that there were at least two different handwritings. „Can you still read Russian?“, Ivan asked while sitting on the kitchen table top. Gilbert hmmed, then added: „This is so old-fashioned Russian, even I still understand this. But this handwriting is intelligible.“ 

Ivan smiled his very friendly smile again. „It is my handwriting.“, he said, while it seemed to Gilbert that the temperature in this room dropped slightly. He quickly said: „Well, I just don‘t have that much proficiency reading your handwriting, I guess. We never used to exchange a lot of letters.“, closed the book and placed it back on the shelf. „True.“, Ivan said. Then: „I have kept those books because they just have the best recipes. Feel free to use them.“ There was a brief moment of silence between the two men, during which Ivan regarded Gilbert with an unwavering friendly expression, and Gilbert did his best to not look into the other man‘s face. 

It did not take long until he had to break the silence. „So.. would you mind giving me the wifi password? I would like to call Ludwig and let him know everything‘s ok, you know.“, he said, feeling like he was asking for something extra. But Ivan simply said, „sure, let me get it“, and walked off.

Gilbert slowly walked behind him to Ivan‘s office, and watched him rummage around in his desk. Then rummage around in a drawer. Then walk back into the ‚official‘ living room, and search there. When Ivan finally found a small slip of paper in one of the kitchen drawers and fished it out with a triumphant „ah-ha!“, Gilbert could not help himself but commented dryly: „You don‘t have a lot of people asking you for this, do you?“, and then, saving the password to his phone, „Why on earth do keep this in the kitchen?“ „So I can find it quickly if someone asks.“, said Ivan. 

True to Ivan‘s word, the wifi only worked on the ground floor, and only really in the living room there. That was why Gilbert sat there for a while on the hard old-fashioned sofa which clearly was meant to impress visitors, updating Ludwig and his friends, and googling vegetable names in Russian.   
Then he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, and when he turned around, he saw a head appear from the staircase. „Let‘s start preparing lunch, shall we?“, Ivan said in his friendly tone. Gilbert complied and followed the other man. It was a bit after two pm, and Gilbert figured that Ivan had probably had a late breakfast, and had then decided to wait for him to help him out with the preparations. In the kitchen Ivan had placed one of the cooking books on the counter top (a different one, Gilbert noticed), and now pulled out an old-fashioned apron in a faded yellow colour. Gilbert stared at him, while the taller man neatly put on the apron. 

„Sorry, I don't have a second one.“, Ivan said almost sheepishly, then turned to the freezer and took out a container apparently containing frozen soup. „This is the soup.“, Ivan said needlessly, and put it on the metal part next to the sink to thaw, „and you can help me prepare the vegetables. They are in there.“ Gilbert opened the cupboard Ivan had pointed to and found a small storage built into the wall. While taking them out he tried to remember their names in Russian. Ivan was putting spices on the counter space, so Gilbert opened a couple of drawers and cupboards to see what was in there. To his surprise he found an entire cupboard dedicated to baking, obviously in good use. Finding a knife and cutting board, he set to action. 

Ivan was glad that Gilbert quietly had accepted his fate, and was now cutting vegetables. Somehow he had expected a lot more fighting about the whole topic, and fighting about other topics, so that he was pleasantly surprised about the peaceful atmosphere. Of course it was weird to have someone else in the house, and then out of all people it had to be Gilbert, who probably had not been quiet a day in his life. On the other hand it looked like most people would not be allowed to leave their houses for a good amount of time, and it would be nice to have some company. And someone to support him in household chores. Of course neither of them could get sick like humans did, but the police would ask questions nonetheless should any of them walk around. And Ivan doubted telling a police officer „don‘t worry, I‘m not actually human“ would solve more problems than it created.   
Gilbert had even admired the house. It had taken his sisters a good amount of time to convince Ivan to get rid of the yellowed wallpapers and a good part of the old-fashioned furniture (ironically, some 50 years before they had furnished a part of this house with modern things, which then turned out to be the old-fashioned pieces they threw out), but he had to admit that the make-over had helped put him into the mood of the new millennium. It was always difficult to go with the times if you were several centuries old, and making an update to your surroundings every once in a hundred years did help with this. Though he had kept his favorite pieces of course, mainly the impressive full-wood furniture still remaining from former times of royalty. The worst had been the pictures, though. It had been close to a war between his sisters, one of whom wanted all the pictures gone, and the other who had wanted to hold onto them. In the end, they had picked through all of them, Ivan had kept the ones both women could agree on, and had given the ones Ukraine had not liked at all to Belarus. Except for one of his favorite paintings, which now was hanging in the guest bathroom on the ground floor, featuring a busy city scene in Moscov. The painting itself was not that great, but he had good memories about the time he had acquired it. 

Ivan heated up the soup, while putting the final touches on the chicken pieces. The vegetables were as good as done. Maybe all of this could work out. 

Gilbert had cleaned the tools and counter top, only to watch Ivan add a large piece of butter to the chicken pieces in his pan. The man really liked his butter, it seemed. Also, it looked like a lot of food. There was soup, which seemed to be meant as a side dish, a main dish, and Ivan was now putting pieces of picked vegetables on small plates. Quietly, Gilbert set plates and cutlery on the kitchen table, then put the prepared dishes on it too. Finally Ivan had also prepared some tea, and they sat down to eat. „Well, .. this looks good.“, Gilbert commented awkwardly. You don‘t get to prepare food with one of your former worst enemies every day. Ivan nodded. „Thank you for your help. It really is much faster if two are working on it.“, he said. 

They quietly enjoyed their meal, though Ivan ate about two thirds of it. Gilbert was already feeling stuffed when Ivan asked: „Sorry I do not have much of a dessert right now, only tea. I hope it is alright with you. I will prepare something for dinner, though.“ „No, no, it‘s fine.“, Gilbert hurried to say, accepting some tea. This really was much too weird. 

The weirdness continued when it was time to prepare dinner. Ivan whipped out a lot of leftovers, more of the soup, and some pudding he had prepared in the meantime. When dinner was ready it was already 8 pm, and quite late for Gilbert's usual routine. „Do you always eat this late?“, Gilbert asked aloud, having only eaten a small amount and given up, seeing as the pudding was still threatening him. „It is only eight, it‘s not that late.“, Ivan shrugged, and helped himself to a second serving. „Eat some more, come on.“ „Sorry, Ivan, I am still full. I guess I am not used to your eating schedule and this sheer amount of food.“, Gilbert replied, rubbing his stomach. Ivan looked up, surprised. „Oh? You are full? I even prepared a bit more since we did not have the afternoon tea today.. I usually would have offered it to you, but I am simply missing something to offer besides tea.“ „You.. you would have had another meal in between lunch and dinner?“ „Yes, of course.“ Then Ivan noticed the look on Gilbert's face, and added: „.. but I only do this on weekends, usually. And when I have guests, of course.“ „Ohh, I see. Somehow afternoon coffee on a Sunday has gotten really out of fashion in Germany.“, Gilbert shrugged. The generation who had still liked this was almost completely gone, and with all those nice fully automatic coffee machines everyone could enjoy coffee within a minute whenever they wanted. „Oh yes, you‘re coffee drinkers.“, Ivan said, stirring his tea, of which Gilbert knew it had enough sugar to beat any caffeine addiction. „Hm-hm.“, Gilbert said, not wanting to trigger a tea vs. coffee fight. He distinctly remembered that a war had started like this, and that England still was very sensitive about the whole topic. He also remembered a fight between Ludwig and Feliciano – of all people! - only recently about whether or not Feliciano should be drinking coffee from their state of the art automatic coffee machine, or whether they should be relocating closer to a coffee shop selling ‚real coffee‘, which would most probably be located in Italy. It really had not helped when Gilbert had pointed out that the machine had been made in Berlin and used bio-degradable fair trade coffee pads, while most coffee used in standard coffee shops was sourced unsustainably. There were not many times in his life both his brother and Feliciano could have killed him with their looks at the same time.   
He snapped back to his current situation, which was sitting in the surprisingly small kitchen of a surprisingly big house, together with a surprisingly friendly incarnation of Russia. So far he had really not fallen into a lot of stereotypes, or triggered bad memories Gilbert had had with him.   
Ivan picked this moment to ask: „So, do you want a cup of vodka?“, and looked dumbfounded when Gilbert broke into laughter. „Sure“, Gilbert managed to bring out when his fit of laughter died down. They toasted in Russian.


	3. Chapter 3

When Gilbert awoke the next day he was was feeling hungry. He rolled over in the much too soft bed and tried to wiggle out of his blanket. Opening the window he watched his breath form a small puff in the cold spring air; the night had again been below zero degrees. Shivering in front of the open window he quickly put on his clothes and then went to the bathroom. The renovation had blessed him with a nice bathroom with running hot water. Gone were the times where you had to turn on the water heater 15 minutes before you wanted to take a shower. 

There was no trace of Ivan yet when Gilbert went downstairs to the kitchen. Feeling like he should stay ahead of the race while he still could he decided to set the table for breakfast with bread, butter of course, cheese, some jam he found, and started to boil water for eggs. He even found some expired instant coffee in the back of a cupboard. It was completely hard as a rock and had lost all smell. „Tea it is.“, Gilbert said to himself, humming as he boiled a few eggs. He was done by eight o‘clock and started to wonder whether he had missed Ivan getting up super early, when he heard an alarm clock going off. It was silenced after about a minute, and then went off again five minutes later. This repeated again, and then he could hear a door closing upstairs.   
Gilbert used the time to spread some of the softened butter on his bread, putting a bit of salt on it. The bread was dark and hearty and reminded him of times long gone. He had already finished his breakfast when Ivan came into the kitchen, looking like he woke up about three hours too early. He looked at Gilbert as if he was surprised to see him here, then remembered his new house-mate. „Oh- thank you, Gilbert.“, he said as he sat down.

Ivan was confused. This was not how he had imagined this at all. He felt like he was in some sort of movie, waiting for the twist. He watched Gilbert take out a small notepad and a pen, then rummage around the groceries, and grabbed some bread. „So, do you have any preferences?“, the incarnation of Eastern Germany asked, and Ivan had almost made a remark along the lines of ‚being the sole superpower‘, but then swallowed this in favor of prolonged peace. „Russian dishes.“, he replied.   
Apparently Gilbert, who nodded without looking at him and made some note, had not gotten the hint when he showed him his favorite cookbooks. „Your groceries are only going to last for about two days or so, so we will have to get some more. Do you have a car I can use?“, Gilbert asked, and Ivan remembered that Dmitri, his housekeeper, usually went grocery shopping on Mondays. „Yes, there is a car parked around the corner of the house.“, Ivan said and pointed to the general direction. „The keys are in the small drawer in the corridor. I can give you directions to the next town, if you‘d like.“ „Don‘t worry, I have already looked this up online.“, Gilbert answered, only curtly glancing over. Ivan felt a bit useless. How could that guy already know where to go and how to do everything? Smartass. 

Gilbert got up and grabbed a few of the books on the shelf. „I will make some of these, but please understand that I will also prepare a few things less Russian.“, he said matter-of-factly. „It seems your helper had planned to prepare this dish“, he pointed, „so I will make this today. I think he also planned to make that one“, another bookmark, „but it‘s not actually the season for these, so we should either substitute this or make another one..“ „I think you already have a plan in your head, so just go along with that. You don‘t need to tell me about this.“, Ivan said after swallowing. He had no time or intention to discuss this with someone who would probably follow through with his plan anyway. „Okay. Well, do you need anything else from the store?“, Gilbert asked, finally looking at him with an even expression. Ivan felt a bit embarrassed to say: „Well, could you get some snacks, too? You know.. brain food?“ „Sure.“

Usually he did not need to tell Dmitri, who had been working for him for several years now. He always brought vodka, chocolate bars, ingredients for desserts, and chips for late night movie sessions. Telling someone to bring snacks made Ivan feel exposed, especially since Gilbert was decidedly fit and probably did not eat this kind of thing at all. But if he thought anything about this, he did not say, and simply made a note on another list. Ivan grabbed his third thick slice of bread and watched the other one flip through the books, make notes, and occasionally go to check if something was already there or had to be bought. By the time Ivan finished his breakfast, the list was quite long. „You are planning ahead for the whole week?“, Ivan finally asked. „Yes, we are not supposed to leave the house that often, so I will try to get everything in one go. Do you have a credit card I can use?“ „A credit card will not be of much use around here. I will give you money.“, Ivan said, somewhat annoyed at the straightforward question. He went to hand a wad of money to his new housemate, and then hoped for the best as he retreated to his office.

The early breakfast had had a surprising effect on Ivan‘s spirits. He felt that he had been very productive this morning, as his stomach told him that it was time for his next meal. It was shortly after 11, and therefore a good timing in between the first breakfast, and lunch, which was to be expected around three pm. When he left his office, he noticed that Gilbert was still gone. This was not surprising, he was probably still on his way. Ivan prepared a plate for himself, but took it with him to the office, as he often did. Usually Dmitri would even bring him a plate around this time, as Ivan was often very busy when he was working from home. He also took the time to make himself a new cup of tea.   
To his surprise, there was a knock on his office door already about an hour later. The door opened, and Gilbert‘s head appeared from behind it. „Hi, I just wanted to let you know that lunch will be done in thirty minutes. I can also come later if it suits you, you‘ll just have to warm it up then.“ the man said, again without any kind of small talk.

And that was how Ivan found himself having lunch which his former enemy had prepared. Well, it mainly was leftovers from the previous day, but it counted. „Guten Appetit!“, Gilbert said, and Ivan helped himself. „So.. you‘re not fasting.“, Gilbert remarked, and Ivan looked up. Gilbert had spent centuries on his heels trying to convert him to catholicism, so it made sense he was aware of orthodox Easter rites. „No.“, Ivan replied, trying to keep his voice levelled. „Good, that makes things much easier.“, Gilbert remarked, and then proceeded to tell him about seasonal vegetables and offers in great detail. Apparently he had made friends with a babushka working a vegetable stand, which was why it had taken him so long. Ivan shook his head. „Were you even able to speak to her well?“, he asked, and Gilbert puffed up. „Of course!“, he replied indignantly in Russian, „My Russian may be a bit rusty, but it‘s still better than your German!“

Ivan had to smile again, this was most likely correct. While he did have a grasp on German historically he had rather been focused on French, and then English out of the European languages. Besides the Slav and Baltic ones, naturally. „Fürwahr.“, Ivan said in German to humour his guest, which made Gilbert chuckle. „What is so funny?“, Ivan immediately asked, switching back to English. „Sorry, no one uses that word anymore. Nowadays we just say ‚ok‘.“, Gilbert grinned. „You‘re using the English word?“ „Uh-huh.“, Gilbert nodded, stuffing his mouth. Ivan ate silently. He absolutely did not like to be made look silly. Once upon a time he had been fluent in German, and to have one of his favourite words being pointed out as wrong irked him. How could he compete with someone how had been so sure on the international floor of western powers? Gilbert may not be his own nation anymore, but he still was friends with so many others, and still was a part of their community. How could he, Russia, who really already had his hands full with all his internal dialects, even think to compete? With all those small and smallest groups of people he really had enough to do, how could he be expected to keep up with insignificant changes of other languages, especially if the nation with that language was not even an official nation anymore? Who said that people did not use that word anymore in Germany? Maybe this was only applicable to eastern Germany after all. „You‘re not even a real nation anymore.“, Ivan muttered out, and then froze, shocked he had said this out lout accidentally. Gilbert looked up sharply, surprise and shock on his face. Ivan hid his embarassment under a smile. „Sorry.“, he said in the most friendly tone he could muster. Gilbert, who had an empty plate, put away his cutlery. „I was done anyway. Just leave everything when you are done. Dinner will be at six.“, he said, his voice still sharp, got up and left the room. Ivan sighed.

Gilbert rolled over on the big bed. Then he rolled back, because the new position was just as uncomfortable as the first one. The bed was too soft. The bed was too soft, and the whole room annoyed him. Why was he even here? What was he doing here? He could be lying on his bed at home! Annoyed, he checked his phone for messages again. His conversation with Ludwig, where his little brother had explained to him to just stay where he was and that he, Ludwig, unfortunately was extremely busy, he would probably not have a lot of time in the near future. Then Gilbert remembered that there was no wifi connection in this room and threw his phone onto the pillow. He had checked his work e-mail inbox after breakfast and found that there was not a lot to do. Since everything had to shut down there was not much coming in to work on, and that what was there was not urgent any longer, since no one was waiting for it. Gilbert had therefore decided in the morning to take care of other things first, and work on the remaining work-related tasks later. He had really tried his best. Took stock of all the groceries, while naming them in Russian. Checked all the cookbooks for obvious favorite recepies, trying his best to be a good quarantine house-mate and to not trigger anything with the stronger nation he was currently rooming with. He had been a model guest! And then that.. he groaned when he replayed the scene of Russia insulting him in his head. And again. And again. He rolled over again and rubbed his face with both hands, then struggled up from the bed. It probably was best to do something with this energy, and to get out of this much-too-feminine room. He walked through the house which Russia surely had not helped to remodel much, that guy had no taste!, put on his shoes and jacket in the corridor, and went outside. There was a chilly wind hitting him in the face. Burying his hands in his pockets, he closed the door behind him and started to walk towards a pathway leading through the close fields. The longer he walked, the better his mood got. Physical activity had always helped him get over things, vent anger and make it easier to calm down. He explored the area around the house. There even were woods nearby, apparently used by the people living around here, but deserted at this time. There was a really nice path for running, he noted, and grabbed for his phone. Then he remembered that he had not even bothered to take it, since he did not have a connection anyway. He would have to ask Ludwig to ship his running shoes and a bit of clothing later.

Ivan found dinner prepared, and himself alone in the kitchen, when he went there at six pm. He was even punctual, but Gilbert was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was better this way, let him cool down. The good thing was that he could now eat without feeling watched, and helped himself to a generous dinner. Another good thing about working from home was that he did not have to wear his nice clothes, but could choose a bit more comfortable things. A lot of his things had gotten a bit small in the past years, and especially many of his suits now were uncomfortable to wear. After all the ups and downs in the past century there now was good food readily available, his life had become much more pleasant, and he was moving around a lot less than he had in previous centuries. Of course it showed. Why not; he was living a good life. It was all about perspective.  
Tomorrow he would wear that one pair of pants which he had used for garden work many years ago, and not have to worry about the pinch around his waist.  
He did not see anything of Gilbert for the rest of the day.

The next morning Gilbert got up, walked a small round outside in a very fast pace (the cold sucked, but it looked very beautiful as the fog was lifted by the emerging sun), took a shower, prepared breakfast, then sat in the ground floor living room and connected his laptop to the internet. There were no new messages from either of his friends, nor from his brother. He wrote to Ludwig, downloaded a couple of podcasts, a couple of movies, read the news, and looked up when Ivan came downstairs. Russia sleepily greeted him with: “Oh, you’re up already.” “You are not a morning person, are you.”, Gilbert snorted, closing his laptop. Centuries of drill had made sure he was up at 6 am at latest, and he was most productive in the morning. Ivan grunted and sat down for breakfast. 

Gilbert followed him, and sat on the other side of the table. There was an awkward silence between them again, which Gilbert felt compelled to break. “So – do you have a lot to do right now?”, he asked, realizing it was the exact same kind of stupid question Ivan had asked him earlier. “Well, there is a pandemic going on, so there is a lot to do for me.”, Ivan replied in a tone between irritation and amusement. “We are working on a lot of scenarios right now.” “I hope this one will not be as bad as 1918.”, Gilbert said, remembering all the dead of the so-called Spanish Flu. It had hit right at the end of the first world war, spreading faster than news did at the time. “We will survive this. We have survived worse.”, Ivan said matter-of-factly and took another bite. It was true, and especially true for Russia, Gilbert thought. “Do you remember when you were so low on people you invited misfits to come live with you?”, Ivan continued, and Gilbert had to roll his eyes. “Yes.. I remember how two thirds of my population died because of the black plague. How a good part of the European population died because of that.”, he answered. This really was something he did not want to remember right now. Seeing so many people die was horrible, and as nations, they saw it more than once. “We have survived that, so Corona won’t be that bad.”, Ivan continued in a content tone, focusing on his food. “Even if Covid-19 is not as bad as the black plague, it’s still enough.”, Gilbert replied, wanting to end this topic. Any health system could be brought to its knees if the situation was dire enough, and once it went down the country went with it. That reminded him that China had still not answered his text. He hoped he was ok.

“That’s why I have opted for rigid measurements.”, Ivan said, sighing. “There are just too many people living in Russia, and they like to meet up.” Gilbert played with some bread crumbs. “We have only asked our people to stay home. No formal restrictions.. yet.”, he said quietly. Ivan nodded. “Do you think they will?”, “Yes.. my, our chancellor even asked my people to stay home in an announcement.”, Gilbert said. It was rare to direct a personal request to his people in politics, and he was sure the people would understand the gravity of the situation like this. Ivan chuckled. “She.. asked them to please stay home?” Gilbert furrowed his brows. “Yes, she did.”  
Ivan shook his head: “That’s so cute.” “What, you’ve already called the tanks or what.”, Gilbert asked angrily. Why did Ivan ridicule this serious situation? Ivan sighed and looked at the ceiling. “I will just go and start working now. Make yourself comfortable, alright?”


	4. Chapter 4

Gilbert could already feel the walls closing in. Only one hour of doing nothing, and he was already bored out of his mind. The internet connection was painfully slow not that Ivan was working (was he streaming HD videos or what), and Gilberts inner schedule was calling for something to do. So.. cleaning it was!  
He got a notepad and pen, then went through the whole house, looking and what was especially needed. It was generally kept in a good condition, but it was apparent that the representative rooms in the ground floor were cleaned a bit more thoroughly than the other rooms. Did these even get used at all?  
When Gilbert opened the door to the guest bathroom, one of the ugly paintings he had thought gone greeted him. It consisted of a splotchily portrayed street scene in Moscow, which looked like the artist had been three years old. Or maybe he was comparing it to the old artists and just had a high standard. In any case, it was ugly as hell.  
Gilbert made himself a cleaning schedule, grouping the various tasks and rooms together to be able to do this as efficiently as possible. Satisfied with his preparations, he set to work.

Ivan was trying to work. He was working, but then he found himself staring at the screen. Somehow the internet connection had been really slow, but significantly improved after a while. He checked the clock. 11. Time for a snack!  
Ivan got up and walked out of his office. There was some kind of muffled noise coming from upstairs, which he chose to ignore, checking the kitchen for a snack instead. To his disappointment there was nothing like he was looking for. Instead there was a good amount of fruit; a glass jar which he recognized as the jam which had gone empty a few days ago, now filled with nuts; and a bag of sunflower seeds. Bemused, he filled some sunflower seeds in a small bowl and took them with hin. All of this looked awfully healthy. Was Gilbert some sort of health nut? It made sense if you looked at him, then again Ivan had never witnessed the other man being picky about anything served at any occasion. The sunflower seeds were salty and hearty on his tongue. Maybe he would have to make a dessert by himself. It would probably be tasting better anyway.  
Feeling re-energized, he went back to work.

Gilbert was reviewing the meal plan for this week. The leftovers were gone and it was time to implement plan ‘feed Ivan’. This was a working title, he reminded himself. In time he would need to find a more awesome one to log in his annals, but for now it would do. The plan contained of him watching the quantities consumed by Ivan and guessing how many calories the other man needed in a day. Also reviewing his regular eating habits and figuring out what he liked (so he would leave Gilbert alone). Then he took into account which groceries were available to him. It made sense to prepare dishes with seasonal vegetables, since they would be cheaper and also fresher, tasting better and containing more nutrients. Then group dishes that would be using the same ingredients together, so he would have less work to do in the kitchen. Finally he crossed out a good amount of things because he did not like them. Feeling satisfied with his plan, and satisfied with his productivity today, he went to the kitchen and set to work there.  
One of the things that were not going to happen were the five thousand soups a day Russians liked to eat. Soups were a winter thing in Gilberts head (never mind the freezing temperatures outside), and winter was done. Another thing he would not be doing was to prepare five dishes for one meal, so there would be a lot of choice. This was purely inefficient and unnecessary – they did not need to show off to some noble right now. With the quantities he had to prepare for Ivan, he would have enough to do as it was. Another thing that would be banned was the butter. Mainly no one needed butter on a daily basis, there were just unnecessary empty calories.  
Gilbert was just glad that Ivan was not fasting for pre-Easter period, that made it so much easier to prepare dishes he knew. Today, he made a simple lentil stew, which he really liked for the easy preparation and great nutritional value. It was a traditional German dish, but common throughout the Slav area, so he counted this as Russian cuisine.  
Having put lentils in water to soak the night before, it would only need to cook for 30 or 40 minutes to be done. He chopped onions, potatoes, carrots, some celery, put it into a large pot with a bit of vegetable oil and ham cubes to lightly brown everything. When it was smelling good he added he lentis and water, then put the lid on the whole thing. Later he would be adding some simple poultry sausages to this. Looking at the huge pot he wondered if Ivan would be able to eat all of this, or if there would actually be leftovers.

It was half past 12 this time when there was a knock on Ivan’s door. “Lunch is ready!”, shouted a voice outside without bothering to open the door. Ivan saved his document. They would have to talk about timing, he thought, this was too early for him. But he got up anyway, to be greeted by a delicious smell when he stepped out of his office. To his surprise he found out a short while later that the stew was just as good as it smelled.

„I would like to talk to you about meal times.”, Ivan started the conversation, trying to start the topic of lunch and dinner times with the German in a friendly way. Europeans tended to have lunch much earlier, he knew, but somehow he had assumed Gilbert would know that Russians simply liked to eat later in the day.  
And that was why he tried his best to explain Russian food culture to Gilbert. The man actually took notes. „I thought you knew that!“, Ivan finally exclaimed. „I did, once. You can‘t blame me for not realizing the extend of this.“, Gilbert exclaimed back, his eyebrows raised. „Having lunch ‚later‘ and having lunch at 5pm are not the same thing!“ „I did not say every Russian had lunch at 5pm every day.“, Ivan answered, trying his best to stay calm and friendly. Was Gilbert insulting his culture, or his failure to word his expectations? „And dinner as late as 10 pm? I‘m already sleeping then.“, Gilbert grumbled. Did he mean that? „8 pm is fine for me.“, Ivan tried again. Gilbert sighed as if he had to agree to a very unfavorable treaty, and made another note. What did he make all those notes for? Could he not remember these simple things? Would he be writing about this in his infamous diary? „You know about all of this. How come you are so surprised?“, Ivan asked, exasperated. „It is one thing to know, and another thing to experience it.“, Gilbert answered in a sage voice which made Ivan feel like he wanted to punch him. No. They were civilized people, who could solve issues with words. Even though Ivan would be much stronger if it came down to that. He could break the other man in half! But he was out of breath if he walked up from basement to first floor, a voice at the back of his head pointed out.

„Thank you for pointing this out.“, Gilbert‘s voice broke through Ivan‘s thoughts, suprising him. “My proposal: I prepare breakfast for 8 am for you. There will be some sort of snack available to you in the morning. I will then have lunch done by about 12:30, but you can just come and eat later if you want. Finally, there will be something out for dinner for you from six pm.” Gilbert looked at his notes and scratched his scalp with his pen. “We could almost combine your lunch with my dinner.”, he joked. The rest had been said matter-of-factly, which had calmed Ivan down, yet he still felt umcomfortable getting this pointed out. To him, this seemed as if both lifestyles were set next to each other and compared, which embarrassed him for some reason. No, he told himself, no need to be embarassed about some extra weight. At least I can eat what I want and not have to deny myself all the good things in life. He shrugged in answer to Gilbert’s plan. “But that means we would mainly not eat together.”, Ivan summarized. This time, Gilbert shrugged. “Well we don’t have to. It’s not a requirement to heed, so this looks like the best solution.”  
He sounded like he was presenting some sort of business project. Was that everything this was? Was everything like a business project to him? Why was the social factor not ‘a requirement to heed’? Just like he knew him, cold-blooded Prussian making charts and evaluations, instead of emotional choices. He nodded absentmindedly.

Gilbert was glad that Ivan had addressed the meal time issue. Even though he had done research, read the cook-books, spoke to people with Russian twisting his tongue in an unfamiliar way, this had not been on his mind at all. He mentally slapped himself for this. He should have researched this better. But now everything would be fine. It was cleared up, and he could adapt to it. What he was surprised about though had been the fact that Ivan readily agreed to have meals by himself. Eating together at least once a day was a normal thing to Gilbert if you were in the same household, family or not, but then again Ivan probably did not have a huge preference for him. As a good guest, he would accept this without commenting. He would try to give Ivan the space he needed, try not to bother him, and hope to be able to return home soon.  
That reminded him that he would have to look for the washing machine. He had not brought a lot of clothes, expecting to stay for only one night. As the silence stretched, he dared to ask. “Ivan.. there is something I would like to ask you.”, he started carefully.

Ivan looked up. “Yes?” “I am kind of running out of clothes. Do you think you could lend me a shirt or two?”, Gilbert asked calmly. Ivan stared at him. The thinner man would probably be able to wear Ivan’s shirts as night gowns. Then again he had only been supposed to stay for one night. In fact, he had been wearing the same blue… Prussian blue hoodie the whole time. Just like him to specifically come to Russia wearing the colour named after him. Where had he even found this – probably had been searching for anything Prussian blue to purchase it, solely for the reason to annoy him, Ivan. “I have nothing Prussian blue.”, Ivan answered, realizing he was staring at the other man. It did not seem to bother Gilbert. “I will take any other colour, as well.” Ivan felt himself losing the staring match against Gilbert’s calm expression, and fixated his lunch instead. “I will check later.” he told his stew grumpily.

Gilbert fought his anger down. Just like Ivan to pick fights over simple things. Why would he even bring up his favourite colour? As if the colour mattered when you could smell your own sweat in the old shirt! Why did his simple question enrage Ivan like this? If looks could kill Gilbert would be dead. Would probably have long been dead by now. He mentally congratulated himself to having stayed calm, a skill which he had had a hard time to teach himself, but had come in handy when facing a lot of his bosses. He sighed. Ivan would surely hand him the ugliest things he could find.


	5. Chapter 5

The afternoon was quite boring. Gilbert turned on the old TV on the second floor and zapped through the various shows. The longer he watched, the more he understood. After a while he started to repeat sentences and expressions.  
There was a lady complaining about her neighbour, who kept a bear. The bear had eaten all of her turnips and stolen the fish she had set out for her cat. If you got over the initial shock that someone would just keep a bear around, this actually was quite funny, Gilbert found. People really had the same issues around the world. In his home people complained about wild boars digging up their gardens, and then protested when more were shot to decimate their population. Were boars to him what bears were to Russia? What was the vocab for boar, anyway? He would have to look that up. And he would have to rehearse writing in Russian. He sighed. Ever after being re-unified with Ludwig he had done his best to focus on the west, and to specifically ignore Eastern Europe, even though he naturally could not deny his ties.  
Groaning, he turned the TV off, and went to look for the washing machine instead. He found it after short search in the basement, in a spacous room obviously dedicated to laundry. There was a washing machine, a rack to dry clothes on, and an ironing board set up. Another room in the basement was obviously dedicated to storing “stuff”, with a lot of boxes, a bike set in a corner, a large tool box, and various other things. There was a large wardrobe, no doubt containing clothes of times long gone. They all had one of those. Gilbert was about to close the door, when his eyes caught the gleam of metal. He opened the door again and pushed the tool box away. There were a bunch of dusty kettlebells. Excited about his discovery, he took them to the laundry room with him.

The next few days passed by uneventfully. Ivan noticed that both his vodka and snack stashes were dwindling fast. He only found nuts, seeds and fruit instead. One time there actually was salad for dinner. He would have to address this soon – but found himself stalling. On the other hand he had noticed that the house was sparkling. Dmitri had done a great job, but there probably was a difference between someone cleaning because it was part of their job, and someone actually enjoying to clean things.  
There had been a few weird things, too. One time he had wanted to put some salt on his food, opened the spice drawer, and found out that his spices rack had been cleaned and re-arranged. There obviously was some kind of pattern to it, and he spent several minutes staring at the spices, trying to find out. When it hit him that they were arranged alphabetically according to their German names he groaned. Out of spite he switched up a few of them. They were neatly organized back in their previous state when he checked in on them the next day. Ivan had briefly considered re-arranging them according to Russian names, but held back in favour of peace. It irked him, though.

It was that afternoon, at the end of their first week together, that Ivan went downstairs to do his laundry. He felt that he should not have to do his own laundry, but felt even stronger that he did not want Gilbert handling his dirty underwear, so he would take care of this himself. Besides, he had had a nightmare in which Gilbert had called him out for not ironing his socks properly. Ivan had woken up covered in sweat and with an urge to avoid any discussions in this direction.  
To Ivan’s surprise there was music running in the basement. When he opened the door to his laundry room, Gilbert was exercising in there with his old kettlebells. He was wearing sweat pants and one of the old shirts Ivan had handed over to him; a faded shirt in turquoise striped with blue which Ivan had been wearing in the 60s maybe? Gilbert shortly acknowledged him with a “hi” in between two kettlebell swings, and Ivan nodded back, somewhat flabbergasted. While Ivan put his pile of laundry in the washing machine and turned it on, Gilbert finished his set.

“I see you’ve found my kettlebells.”, Ivan said, looking at his watch to note when the laundry would be done. “Yeah.”, Gilbert replied breathlessly. “It’s really cool you own some!”  
“I actually got them as a gift once.”, Ivan said, leaning on the washing machine. “Where did you find them?”, “They were next to the tool box in the other room.”, Gilbert said pointing. Ivan had naturally known exactly that they had been in there, but the other man offered no explanation why he would have looked in there. “You have a really nice selection. Most people only get one or two heavy ones, but not two of the same weight.”, Gilbert said, indicating the two 24 and 32kg kettlebells. Ivan shrugged. Kettlebells were a staple of Russian sport. It made sense Gilbert knew them as they had been exported to various countries, but naturally especially to all countries under Soviet influence. It had however been a long time since Ivan had done any sport whatsoever.  
“I see you’ve done some laundry, too.”, Ivan tried to change the topic, pointing over to the drying rack which had some of the shirts he had handed to Gilbert, and also several pieces of clothing which the other man had obviously brought with him. Gilbert nodded. “I was going to ask you about what to do with your laundry, but it seems you’ll be washing it yourself?”, he asked while shaking out his arms. “Yes…”, Ivan said, and then: “Thanks for cleaning the house.”  
Gilbert shrugged, giving a small smile. “That was the deal.”  
“Alright.”, Ivan pushed himself off the washing machine, wanting to avoid an awkward situation, “I’ll leave you to the kettlebells.”

Sunday was the day Ivan could not take it any longer. He decided to make a cake.  
He put on the apron (recently washed) and laid out all the ingredients to his favourite chocolate cake. After running out of proper snacks he was outright craving sugar now.  
Admittedly, the food had not been that bad. Gilbert was by no means a bad cook, but Ivan suspected that the other man followed recipies like a battle plan. There was no love in them, and they were made with a superior goal in mind which decidedly was not indulgence. There had been a lot of vegetables, even salad that one time! And not even any main dish the salad went with, it had been the main dish.  
Lightly humming to himself, Ivan melted the butter, measured his ingredients and mixed them together. He had not made this cake in a long time and was looking forward to enjoying it. He put everything he had used in the sink after putting the cake in the oven, and wiped down the counter. Already he could smell the goodness in the oven. Today was a good day, and not even the wrong order of the spices could get him down as he put the salt back. Maybe he would go for a walk a little later. But first he would take the time and call a couple of people to check up on them.

Ivan’s favourite moment was when you took the freshly baked goods out of the oven and could see their goodness for the first time. And then when you cut it open, and the wonderful smell would be freed. Gilbert ruined Ivan’s special moment with the chocolate cake by choosing this moment to enter the kitchen. “Wow, that smells amazing!”, he commented in an excited voice. Ivan fought the urge to cradle the cake in his arms. “I made chocolate cake.”, he explained the sudden appearance of this chocolate cake. “It looks delicious.”, Gilbert said, slightly leaning forward to have a better look at the cake. “… would you like a slice?”, Ivan felt pressured to offer. Gilbert’s face lit up. “Sure! Thank you!”  
Ivan silently cut a slice for each of them. Gilbert surprised him by taking both plates and carrying them out into the living room. “Where are you going?”, Ivan asked. “Can you bring the tea? I thought we’d have a proper tea time today.”, came the shout back. Ivan poured two cups of tea and asked himself when he had become the servant in his own house.  
They then sat in the living room of the official part in Ivan’s house. The last time Ivan had done this, his sisters had been visiting, and altogether they had been too many to sit at the kitchen table.  
“So.”, Gilbert broke the silence as they were silently sitting together, “how are you?”  
Ivan looked at his tea and tried to find a good answer. “Alright, seeing the circumstances.”, he finally said. Gilbert sighed. “Neither Italy nor Spain have answered any of my messages.”, he said and sadly ate another bite of the cake. “Ludwig sent me all the charts and extrapolations, but when I called him he sounded exhausted.” Russia made a comforting noise. If he had had to put together charts and extrapolations just for his sisters he would be exhausted, too. “We’ll get through it.”, Ivan said to comfort both of them, and Gilbert seemed to perk up for some reason.  
“Anyway, this cake is really good! I didn’t think you were such a good baker.” , the ex-nation exclaimed. “Thank you.”, Ivan answered politely. “This actually is my favourite chocolate cake recipe. I .. did not know that you liked cake.” “Oh, I love cake!”, Gilbert exclaimed, “just not those cream cakes like Austria makes them. You know that Sachertorte? It’s horrible, way too sweet. You have to take a nap after eating one slice. My favourites are actually cakes with fruit in them, you know, something sour, something sweet.” Ivan blinked. “So what is you favourite cake, then?”, he asked. Gilbert smiled at his chocolate cake. “Plum cake.”, he said quietly. “Plum cake?”, Ivan echoed. Gilbert nodded. “Is that the one made of..”, he tried to remember the English word for it, “shortcrust pastry? With some ripe plums on it?” Gilbert nodded again. “Mürbeteig.”, he confirmed, “like for Christmas cookies.” This was an extremely simple cake. “I would have thought you liked something more extravagant.”, Ivan said, then shook his head, “No, actually I did not expect you to have a favourite cake at all.” “Huh”, Gilbert said, swallowing the last bite, “Why not?”  
Ivan shrugged, and decided to take this opportunity to speak about his dwindling vodka and snack stash. “Are you going to go grocery shopping tomorrow?”  
“Uh, yes.” Gilbert nodded, drinking the last of his tea. “Please bring more ingredients for ..cake? And some vodka?”, Ivan politely ordered. “Sure.”, Gilbert said, leaning back on the sofa. Ivan celebrated on the inside. Much to his chagrin Gilbert proceeded to eat about one fourth of the cake which had been supposed to last until Monday.

It was when April was beginning, that Ivan was beginning to feel the effects on his people. He felt tired, exhausted. His nose was blocked, and he woke up with a sore throat. It was still alright though, until now the sheer number of his population prevented him from feeling worse. As April progressed, limb pain was added to the list. When he carefully referenced his symptoms to his superiors, they immediately assured him that he could take time off whenever needed. Instead, he opted to reduce his working time per day. He also gave up on dressing properly. Gilbert did not seem to care about Ivan’s appearance, mainly lounging around in sweatpants and Ivan’s huge shirts anyway. Ivan had also lent him an older pullover, which worked wonders on making Gilbert look like a child. So what was the difference if Ivan was wearing sweatpants and sweatshirts, too?

Being outside was different now. Somehow Gilbert was acutely aware of everyone around him. The people seemed quiet and nervous. Everyone seemed more polite that usual, keeping their distance, letting people pass instead of pushing.  
The worst thing, however, was knowing that even though he would not die because of this… other people very well could. His new friend and her husband had been so happy to see him again. His Russian had considerably improved thanks to speaking to himself while cleaning, and they had invited him for tea and snacks. The old lady had even patted him on the shoulder when he left. He had done his best to leave quickly; maybe she would have even hugged him otherwise. The old couple had been so cute! But he would feel awful should anything happen to them because of him. Gilbert sat in Ivan’s car, closed his eyes and slowly breathed in and out. The worst thing about being a nation was seeing people die. Again and again. No matter what he did, they would die. And with them, knowledge, ideas, and also nations, died. Gilbert noticed his thoughts spiral down the old road again and struggled to break this train of thoughts. He gripped the steering wheel, worn material in his hands. He breathed in, and out. The road. The blue spring sky. Ivan’s car, in need of a wash. A candy bar in the driver’s door’s pocket. Focus on now. He started the car.


	6. Chapter 6

“Oh.”, said Ivan, looking at his plate. “Potatoes.”, he said in a voice that told Gilbert that this dish was rather underwhelming for him. “Yes.”, Gilbert replied, “Potatoes are actually a kind of superfood, to say it in America’s terms. Did you know they have not only lots of fiber, but also vitamin c, b1, b2, pantothenic acid, potassium, calcium, phosphorous, magnesi-” “No!”, Ivan interrupted, seemed surprised at his own outburst, and then continued in a calmer voice. “Actually I did not know. It seems you did some research on this.”   
Gilbert nodded, and continued with a grin: “There is a reason potatoes are so widely spread and eaten. Did you know you could survive with only potatoes and water? Both have everything you would need to survive.”, “… no, I did not know that either.”, Ivan said sadly, looking down at his plate. “I can send you the research documents for this if you are interested.”, Gilbert continued, pushing even further. It was fun to annoy Ivan.  
“No, that’s.. fine. I believe you.”, Ivan told his plate. Then he carefully added: “But it would be nice to not have potatoes for a few days for a change.”  
Gilbert perked up. “Oh, you cannot even take three days in a row having a dish with potatoes in it? What kind of a person are you? We can eat potatoes in any shape or form! Cooked, roasted, mashed, hash browns, fried, soup, salad, gratin, stew, wedges -”  
Ivan interrupted: “Alright! I understand! I always thought this was exaggerated..”  
Gilbert, who had been having fun until now, cocked his head sideways. “What is exaggerated?”, he asked, genuinely curious. “Nothing.”, Ivan mumbled, shoving some potato and cauliflower into his mouth. “Tell me.”, Gilbert pushed, leaning forward, “Come on.” Ivan shrugged. “Don’t tell me there are people not knowing about the wonders of potatoes. They have saved a large portion of Europe from famine!” Ivan swallowed and raised his eyebrows. “Well, yes, I know.”, he said. “You just hinted someone didn’t.”, Gilbert pointed out. “It seriously saved so many people. I mean, we mainly relied on wheat before.” “Uh-huh, I know.”, Ivan said again, putting his fork into another potato. “I remember selling you a lot of wheat.. and then you suddenly stopped buying it.” The was a moment of silence, and then Gilbert exclaimed: “Are – are you speaking of the 19th century?” He threw his hands in the air. “Are you still mad I raised my import taxes to sell my own wheat to my people?!” “Of course not.”, Ivan said, pointedly not looking at Gilbert, “I just think there would have been a different possibility at the time-” “I can’t believe you.”, Gilbert shook his head, crossing his arms. “That was an economic decision.” “You could have spoken to me before doing that.”, Ivan grumbled, pushing around his food. “Are you seriously still mad about something that happened 150 years ago?”, Gilbert asked, incredulous. “No.”, Ivan said again, clearly unhappy. “You do realize that lots of us imposed those taxes at the time. England made all of us mark our products just to have his people buy English products!”   
Ivan scoffed. “And did that not work out for you? Made in Germany.”, he said, waving his hands to accentuate his words as if glitter was flying around them. “Should I apologize for being the best when it comes to machines?”, Gilbert leaned back. “It’s not my fault England’s stuff was crappy.” “Well, seems at least some of your companies were not quite up to that standard.. remember Volkswagen?”, Ivan shot back with a sour look on his face. 

Gilbert tried to read the man in front of him. What was his matter? All of them had been subject to their people’s decisions all the time. They did not always know about all of it, and surely did not need to report them to any other nation. Especially if it was something like raising import taxes, which would be applicable to any other nation’s goods.. even though he had mainly been buying wheat from Russia at the time. And that rule hat been implemented specifically to stop the import of cheap Russian wheat. “In any case.”, Gilbert said, trying to defuse the situation, putting his palms on the table. “I’ve been planning to make something else in the next few days anyway. No potatoes.” “Thanks.”, Ivan said, then sighed and looked up. “I like them, too. I just don’t want them three times in a row.” “Fair enough.”, Gilbert replied, relaxing again. They ate quietly for a moment. “Would you have thought you would be fighting with me over potatoes?”, Gilbert then asked, grinning. “I thought we would be fighting about almost everything.”, Ivan said pointedly, “Though I did not specifically think of potatoes.” What did the man think of him? “Why did you think we’d be fighting a lot?”, Gilbert asked. Ivan shrugged. “It seems to me we have fought quite often in the past.” This part was true of course. Not wanting to start one of the fights Ivan seemed to expect (nothing was better than to surprise your enemies!), Gilbert steered the conversation into another direction. “But there also were times we did not fight. Remember when you visited me in Masuria?”, he asked. “Ah! Very beautiful landscape, yes. Belongs to Poland now.”, Ivan replied happily.   
It took Gilbert a lot of mental strength not to hurl something at Russia at that moment. Then Gilbert leaned back again, letting the anger cool in his stomach. “I also remember when we visited Crimea. Very beautiful too – that was before your tanks rolled through, of course.”  
Ivan’s happy face seemed to freeze in place. “So it seems we have a lot of shared memories.”, he said in that creepy voice he liked to do. Gilbert did his best to keep a superior smirk on his face.  
“I am going to go for a walk now.”, Ivan continued and got up, frozen happy face still in place. Gilbert did not move as the other man left the room.

Gilbert did high kettlebell swings. He had grabbed the bell with both hands, swinging it from between his legs forward, up to the highest point a bit under his shoulders. He was not even counting. The beauty of Masuria. People who voted to be Prussian, not Polish, not German. His heart. Him being pre-occupied with the unification of all the dutchies and kingdoms in the German countries. Bavaria trying to play him against Austria. The surge of animosities against people who were “different”. His fatal mis-judgement. Ludwig, excited. No chickening out. Go until the bitter end. Gilbert had always been the type of person to go through with things.  
His fingers opened against his will, and Gilbert awkwardly stumbled forward, the regular pattern broken, gravity pulling him away. He managed to catch the bell again with this left hand, so it did not completely fall to the ground, though it did hit the ground with a good force. He let himself sink to his knees, left hand still on the bell, panting. Sweat was dripping from his hair, his right hand left a print on the floor. Now that his hands were too tired to hold onto something, he would have to switch to something else. He rolled on his back to do crunches.

Ivan was eating some of the cookies he had made the previous weekend. Soon he would have to bake again. Actually he was in the mood for potato chips, which first of all they did not have, and second of all he did not want to eat because they reminded him of the potato discussion. Stupid red-eyed jerk. Once a jerk, always a jerk. People never changed. Misunderstanding every comment. He had probably just been looking for a way to annoy Ivan! How could Ivan be expected to tiptoe around other people all the time. He hated this. Hated being judged. Hated being in this house together. He’d rather cook and clean on his own. At least then it would be exactly how he wanted everything! No one to talk back to him, no one to annoy him. He could do anything he wanted. This was his house, his home. And he could eat cookies and watch some stupid drama whenever he wanted. And that was exactly what he would do. This was his free time, for god’s sake.  
Ivan’s thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. “Gilbert, go open it!”, he yelled. No response, just the bell again. “Gilbert!”, Ivan yelled again, and when there was no reaction, got up, dusted the cookie crumbles off of him while grumbling, and tried to make his bathrobe look as orderly as possible as he went downstairs to open the door. When he opened the door, the mailman stared at him, pushing a large box towards Ivan, who realized he probably was quite the sight. A huge man in a faded red bathrobe (… more pink now), bear shaped slippers, and the sound of a popular soap opera blaring in the background. Maybe the mailman did not hear that, it was on the second floor after all. “Oh, did they get rid of the bear?”, the mailman asked, pushing his device into Ivan’s hands to get a signature. “I always miss that show.” “…. yes, they finally did.”, Ivan sighed and bid the man farewell. Then he looked at the box. It was addressed to one Gilbert Beilschmidt, currently residing in Ivan’s house. Groaning, Ivan shoved the box away from the door with his foot, closed the door and went upstairs again, only to realize that he had missed an important development. The bear was back.

Gilbert slowly walked upstairs. He was completely soaked in sweat; having completed a good thorough workout. It was evening, and he could hear the TV blare on the second floor. When he reached the end of the stairs, Ivan turned his head over the couch and spoke over the TV, which showed some kind of cooking show. “A box was delivered to you a while ago. It’s downstairs, by the door.” Gilbert nodded, and shortly contemplated walking back down. It probably were the clothes for which he had asked Ludwig. But he felt too tired to get the box right now, so he dragged himself to his room instead, took the only clean shirt left (a white one which had seen better days and was at least three sizes too big), as well as the sweat pants he slept in, and then dragged himself to the bathroom. He flung the sweaty clothes to the floor – Ivan’s red shirt advertising Aeroflot – and stepped under the shower. Blessed, wonderful hot water. One of the best things ever. Unfortunately this lasted all of three minutes, when the water turned ice cold without warning. Gilbert jerked back, but it was too late, the stream hit him mercilessly. He fumbled to turn off the water, then stood there for a moment, shaking. Except for when he spent time in Finland or other sauna countries, he did not care much for cold showers at all. Sighing, he dried himself off, put on his sleepwear, and gathered the discarded clothes. Ivan was zapping through the channels when Gilbert stepped out of the bathroom. Relaxing on the couch actually sounded nice right now, so Gilbert threw his clothes on the laundry pile and then dragged himself over to the couch. Ivan gave him a surprised look as Gilbert let himself slump on the pillows. 

“What are you watching?”, Gilbert asked, eyeing the other man’s faded red bathrobe. “Oh, I am just waiting for the break to be over on that one show.. it’s about a neighbourhood in Siberia.” Ivan shrugged. “Not sure if it’s interesting for you. We can also watch something else.”  
At that moment the show came back on. “Wait, that’s the lady with the bear problem!”, Gilbert exclaimed. Ivan looked at him oddly. “You know this show?”  
“Uh.. there are re-runs in the early afternoon.”, Gilbert admitted. The lady’s husband on screen showed evidence that the bear had eaten their turnips again. The bear’s ‘owner’ suggested that it had been a different bear. “How many bears are there in that neighbourhood?”, Gilbert wondered aloud, and Ivan replied: “True, but it is possible. They should place a camera to see exactly what happens.” “But if they see a bear, how do they know it’s this bear?”, Gilbert asked, when the people on TV asked themselves exactly the same things. They decided to put a collar on the bear, and then started arguing about the colour. Ivan poured himself a drink, and then handed the almost-empty vodka bottle to Gilbert. Gilbert gratefully accepted. “Huh”, Ivan said, “why is your hand so cold? ..oh, did the water turn cold again? I have to get that checked out some time.” Gilbert shrugged. “I was going to shower cold anyway. Did you know that cold showers have lots of benefits?” Ivan nodded slowly, accepting his fate. “But I am sure you will tell me all about it…”


	7. Chapter 7

Easter had come. Gilbert had contemplated whether or not he should do anything special for it this year. In the end, he opted for sending out a lot of messages to everyone he knew. Even if people did not celebrate Easter, everyone could use a friendly message in times like these, he hoped. It was the second week of April, and things had fallen into a rhythm.   
“Are you not celebrating Easter?”, Ivan asked him on Easter Sunday. Gilbert shook his head. “I haven’t actually celebrated this in a long time. Mainly just for Ludwig.”, he said, peeling his boiled egg. These at least he had made. “I can hardly believe you. You were trying to Christianize everyone around you for centuries!”, Ivan shook his head and bit off half of his egg. “Yeah”, Gilbert said quietly, focusing on his egg. “If you don’t mind, I will celebrate it. It’s on April 19th. I will make kulich, too.”, Ivan said happily, then his face turned sad. “But this year we will be alone. I usually celebrate this together with the others.”  
“Well, make a video conference call, maybe?”, Gilbert suggested. “That’s what I will do a bit later.” Ivan nodded thoughtfully. “Oh, but Gilbert- the house must be especially clean.”, he instructed earnestly. Gilbert bristled. “Who do you take me for?”

True to his word, Ivan spent the Thursday afternoon before orthodox Easter making the traditional kulich bread. Gilbert had wandered into the kitchen a few times and tried to give advice. The last time, Ivan had politely but clearly told the man to leave him alone. Fine, Gilbert had thought, be lonely and angry then; and had taken a seat in the downstairs living room going through his e-mails again. Recently, much to his relief, he had started to receive messages from Italy and Spain again. To his surprise, he even found one answer from a cryptic e-mail address he sometimes wrote to, but rarely received answers from. He had acquired this particular address through difficult channels, starting out with writing letters so many years ago. The person was still there. A bittersweet relief.   
A wave of nostalgia hit him then, and he had to remember the time he spent as part of the Soviet Union. Not everything had been bad. However even though he now was slowly dying, his people, what used to be his people, were better off. He hoped that better times would soon come for the author of that short message. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. Opening up, it was a mailman looking at him oddly. “Oh”, the man said in Russian, “I have a parcel for Mr. Braginski.” His eyes seemed to be fixed to Gilbert’s hair. He had that effect sometimes, so Gilbert nodded. “He is busy right now, but I can accept it.” The man had already set the box down and pushed it towards the door with his foot. “You don’t need to sign anything anymore – contactless delivery.”, he said. “Thank you.” Gilbert replied as the mailman was already leaving, and then examined the box. It had been sent from Ivan’s sister in Ukraine, and surely contained an Easter greeting. “Ivan!”, he yelled. “No!”, Ivan yelled back from the kitchen. “Your sister sent you something!” There was some shuffling, and then Ivan emerged from the kitchen in his faded yellow apron, bear slippers on his feet, an excited look on his face. Gilbert wished he had his phone to take a picture. In fact.. he quickly went to the living room, finding his phone on the table. He turned around just in time to take a picture of Ivan carrying the box into the room as if having obtained the holy grail. Ivan stopped. “Why did you take a picture?” checking the picture, Gilbert had to grin to himself. “I will send this to Yekaterina.”  
Ivan was preoccupied with opening the parcel, and then examining everything inside with a soft smile. Gilbert took another picture, which went unnoticed. Ivan picked up a letter first. “She is wishing us happy Easter, and says we should get along and both enjoy the treats she sent to us.”, he summarized. Then Ivan gingerly set all the contents on the table. There was another big kulich, beautifully made and wrapped, together with two carefully painted eggs, and some pieces of decoration. “I should have thought of sending something to her and Nataliya, too.”, Ivan mused. “It’s not too late.”, Gilbert shrugged. “You could send it with express delivery. Your breads are almost done, right?” Ivan drummed his fingers, then looked at Gilbert thoughtfully. Slowly, a smile spread on his face again. “To do this, I think I would need help painting some eggs. You would not know someone who can help me?” 

“Did you seriously paint that egg to look like a chick?”, Ivan said, in a mixture of exasperation and mirth. “Yes, it is the combination of a chicken and an egg. Solving the eternal mystery. Both can exist at the same time.”, Gilbert explained, then pointed to other eggs lying on the table. “We have enough with regular patterns already.” Ivan smiled. “I hope they will be happy to receive them.” “Nataliya and Yekaterina will surely be happy to receive a present from their brother.”, Gilbert nodded and carefully added feet to his egg-chick. “Why do you always use their full names? Have you never gotten to nick-name base with them?”, Ivan asked, curious, examining another egg Gilbert had painted to look like a bear. “With Nataliya? No.”, Gilbert shook his head. “And Yekaterina is just a beautiful name, I like to use it.” “Ah, yes, yes. Your princesses liked to use that name.”, Ivan remembered. There was a pause, and then Ivan asked: “Have you ever wondered what your name would have been had you been born female?” Gilbert chuckled. “Probably something classic. What do you think your name would have been?” Ivan started putting away the tools they had used for their painting job. “Yes, something classic I guess. Like Sofia or Anna.” “’Mercy’, huh.”, Gilbert mused. “I can see that. Anna. Anya. It’s still popular throughout Europe, too.” “It would probably be similar for you. What else is there – Katharina, Maria, Julia?”, Ivan tapped his chin. “I can see Iulia, I think.” “Julia?” Gilbert let the name roll over his tongue. “Julia, Jule. Sounds cool. Tough even. Like me. Did you put a lot of thought into this?”, he said, winking at the large man in his yellow apron. Ivan sighed. “Let’s wrap all of this up, and then I’ll quickly drive to the post office.” “Okay, but make sure to always mix some of my awesome eggs with your boring ones, so both get their share of the good ones.”, Gilbert said with a straight face, and this time, Ivan actually rolled his eyes. 

“Hey, do you want to go for a walk with me?”, Gilbert’s voice asked. Ivan lay sprawled on the couch; his work day was already done. He lifted himself up enough to see Gilbert’s face over the edge of the couch. “You’re going for a walk?” “Yeah”, Gilbert answered, “It’s nice outside.”  
He had a hopeful look on his face. Ivan groaned. He had not actually left the house for a long time at this point. There simply had been no need for that, except for the one time he had went to the post office. “Spring is here.”, Gilbert added, and at the excitement in his voice, Ivan sighed. 

They were walking alongside the woods. Birds were singing, and the sun was slowly setting in the distance. It was a very nice athmosphere indeed, and Ivan breathed the fresh air in deeply.   
His pants were pinching him, and after all this time spent in sweatpants and wide shirts, his clothes seemed to lay much too tightly around him. Both of them were wrapped in scarves, Ivan also wearing his ushanka. Gilberts ears were turning red – they had about 16°C and wind going.   
That was probably why Gilbert was walking at a brisk pace. Ivan could feel himself starting to sweat under all those layers. To his surprise they spent the walk mainly in peaceful silence. One time they saw a figure in the distance, to whom Gilbert just waved.   
Ivan was secretly glad when they arrived back at his house. He was breathing a bit too hard for a casual walk, and was very looking forward to peeling himself out of all the layers. Gilbert seemed completey unfazed, minus red ears. “That was nice. We should do that more often.”, Gilbert said with a smile that looked genuine. Ivan, who had just sat down to take off his shoes, nodded out of surprise. 

“I’m bored.”, Gilbert exclaimed. He was lying on the couch in the upstairs living room. Ivan was lying on the other end, checking the TV. There was nothing on. “Me too.”, Ivan said. “Let’s not be bored and do something awesome instead.”, Gilbert suggested, but the energy was missing from his statement. Ivan wondered why it would have to be awesome, as opposed to interesting, captivating, educational, or just plain fun. “We could play a game.”, Gilbert suggested. Ivan turned off the TV. This was probably not a good idea. “What did you have in mind?”, he asked anyway. Gilbert shrugged as well as he could while lying on the couch. “Do you not have any board games or whatever?” “Hmm.” He actually had had some kind of games some time ago, but he was not completely sure what kind of state they were in now. “Let’s have a look.”, he suggested, and lifted himself up with difficulty. His energy level had been quite low the past days, and lying on the couch for an extended period of time did not exactly help. Besides, he felt bloated and heavy. Re-tying his bathrobe, he made his way to a shelf. One of the drawers contained ‘stuff’, among which there should be some games. Gilbert peeked over his shoulder. The first thing Ivan found was a deck of cards, sticky for some reason. He handed them over to Gilbert, sticky side down so he would have it in the palm of his hand. Immediately, the other man grimaced. Shoving away some other things, Ivan took out a big box with a compendium of games. “This, maybe?”, Ivan suggested, opening it to see whether everything was there. “Oh, ‘man, don’t get angry’? That’s the perfect game for us. You don’t happen to have ‘Risk’ there, somewhere?”, Gilbert said sarcastically. “We’d need more people for that.”, Ivan replied, trying to hit an equally sarcastic tone, and failing. “Yeah, can’t play that without England and France.”, Gilbert agreed, and Ivan snorted to hide his laughter. “Are you laughing?”, Gilbert asked, and Ivan did not know whether this was a sarcastic remark again, or actual surprise. “What about Halma?”, Ivan asked instead. A friendly game without much potential for a fight, oh yes.   
“Have not played that in ages.”, Gilbert admitted, then immediately perked up and added with a grin: “Which means you have a chance against me!”

Half an hour later Ivan exclaimed: “Hey!”  
“This is part of the game.”, Gilbert said gleefully, picking up a total of three of Ivan’s tokens. “I still have more tokens than you, so we’ll see.”, Ivan grumbled, looking over his possibities. “Yes, but you are always taking the sparrow in your hand.”, Gilbert pointed out, “Here, use that one.”   
Ivan mentally noted to not move that token to that place. Ever. 

Ivan was participating in a video call with several people and had to listen to them confer on what to do “with Russia”. One man especially stood out. Again he had launched in a tirade that “the people need to be protected from themselves”, and that “the state had an obligation to protect the people”. What he meant was to use military forces to make people stay home. Ivan stared at the man on his screen and imagined hitting him with a blunt object in great detail. A soft smile spread on his face, and he could see the man on his screen look towards something on his screen nervously. The other men seemed to get giddy as well. Finally their boss decided to cut the meeting short, and Ivan was relieved to shut the conference call down. In a way, he understood that man – he was scared. But this was about Ivan’s wellbeing as well. Speaking of wellbeing – he strolled to the kitchen to check for a snack. As expected, there was not much there. There was a container with cut up apples and some grapes in the fridge, which Ivan took with him instead. He would have to bake again soon. 

Ivan stopped at a channel which just now started to show one of the latest spy movies from America. “Ohh”, Gilbert said, “I haven’t watched this one yet.” “Me neither”, said Ivan, putting the remote down next to him.   
“Hey, wanna bet who’s the villain?”, Gilbert asked, grinning. The screen showed them a first glimpse of the bad guys doing evil things, before moving to introducing the main character. “There was a blond woman, so I guess it’ll be me.”, Ivan said with a sigh. Gilbert pouted. “Ah, I was going to say the same thing. If there’s a beautiful blonde among the bad guys they’re usually Russian.” “Hmm, if I remember correctly there will be a chase through Europe, so you may just get your chance.”, Ivan said, feeling somewhat flattered. Gilbert rolled his eyes. “If they show people wearing Dirndl and leather pants and say they’re German I’ll rate this with only one star on rotten tomatoes.” Ivan had to chuckle at that. “Do you do that often?”  
“Yeah.”, Gilbert replied, completely serious, “I rate every movie like that badly. I sent America my nick name too, so he can check out which movies suck.” “And… what do you expect to happen?” Ivan was genuinely courious. “Annoy him of course. Maybe he’ll even get his facts right one day.” Gilbert dead-panned. The hero’s advisor on screen chose that moment to declare: “It seems that this is … a Russian organization!” “Wanna bet they put a grey filter over all scenes happening in Russia?”, Gilbert asked. 

‘You look so cute in this picture. I am glad you liked my present.’ his sister had written. Attached was the picture she was referring to, showing a large man in a faded pink bathrobe carrying a parcel into the living room with a silly smile on his face. Ivan closed the picture, then opened it again. Zoomed in. Did he really look that awful? He was about to zoom out, then zoomed further in instead. A double chin??   
Gilbert surely was the worst at taking pictures! How on earth had he managed to take such a horrible picture! And how on earth could his sister think it was cute? He looked horrible in that picture, fat and bloated, red face, he was wearing a bathrobe…!  
Ivan got up and angrily paced around in his office, then went out and into the small guest bathroom. He locked the door and looked into the mirror. There was no double chin. He had an absolutely neutral face colour. Well, alright, it did seem a bit reddish. He had always had rosy cheeks, maybe he had been flushed that day the blasted picture was taken. Okay, and there was a bit of a lot of skin somehow. He had probably been caught in a very bad moment, from a very bad angle. Why had Gilbert not told him he was taking a picture, anyway.   
Ivan moved his head back and forth, trying to get a good look at the non-existant double chin. Then he looked at the frayed collar of the bathrobe. Okay, this was not the most flattering piece of clothing he owned. It was probably part of the problem. He gave up and walked back to his office, but his good mood was gone. 

“Wow, are you wearing pants?”, Gilbert said and sounded so surprised, that it instantly put Ivan in a bad mood. “What do you think?”, he answered agressively. “Is someone coming to visit?”, Gilbert asked obliviously, “Should I put on something else as well?” He pointed to his blue and turquoise-striped shirt and sweatpants. Ivan had hoped the shirt would look as ridiculous on Gilbert as it had on him, but to his chagrin, it didn’t. “No.”, Ivan growled, and Gilbert just raised his eyebrows.


End file.
